You Put Your Arms Around Me And I'm Home
by MissZatanna
Summary: "She can feel a ping of fear run through her. She's no good for him, and she's scared that one day he'll realize it too." ll Pike one-shot ll set between 2x2 Connects and 2x5 H-a-Double-P-Y


**A/N: So did anyone else watch the season 3 premiere? I'm not going to spoil anything but let me just say: OH MY GOD. It was so good! I was watching it in the middle of the night because my friend fell asleep early on me and I literally had to stuff my face in my pillow to keep from squealing with excitement. I'll probably write something for it soon.**

 **Anyway, this is set probably somewhere between 2x2 Connects after they get together and 2x5 H-a-Double-P-Y beforeeverything kind of turned to shit. I was listening to Arms by Christina Perry and I was like "this is either Enjonine or Pike..." I actually had a hard time trying to pick. It's just fluffy as always (I've learned that I cannot write angst for my life) and I hope you guys enjoy it! Sorry for the long author's note!**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Graceland or any of its respective characters. All content belongs to USA except for the plot in this particular one shot.**

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"It doesn't hurt."

Her wince at the dull pain that blossoms in her shoulder betrays her as she turns her head to look at him, jostling her left arm. She supposes it's phantom pain, the kind that accompanies old events that would rather be forgotten. It happens only once in a while, and it seems the worst is over. The bandage had come off a few weeks ago, the dark scars fresh reminders of the danger she had put herself in. He must catch her grimace, for his eyes harden and he ghosts his middle finger gingerly around the spot.

They lay in bed, Paige on her back and Mike on his side, his head propped up on his right arm, slightly leaning over her, a shared warmth between them.

Regardless of her claim, Mike moves as gently as possible to press the slow fading wound to his lips. The incident is still fresh in his mind, the ambulance sirens loud and wailing in his ears.

Paige can see his eyes glaze over for a moment and nudges his propped up arm with her nose. "Hey, it's okay. _I'm_ okay." Her lips are traced with the ghost of a smile, her bright green orbs against his blue. She waits to press her lips against his until the corners of his mouth twitch up into a sad smile. If that's all she can get, she'll take it.

She knows that he blames himself for the wound, for the situation as a whole. Even though she wasn't FBI, he'd asked her for her help, knowing that there was no one better at charming the arms dealer than her. They knew that Damon Monk was into knife throwing on the side of his riskier occupation, but who knew Paige's cover would be blown and he'd try out his new stunt on a live audience? It all happened so quickly, it's just a blur in her mind, but a fresh memory in Mike's.

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"Did you know that I can throw a blade twenty feet away and still get a bullseye?" His voice held a certain mischief that Paige knew couldn't be good.

Paige raised her eyebrows as if to challenge him, a cheeky grin passing her lips. "Quite the entertainer, I see."

Mike's voice passed through the undetectable earpiece, his panic barely hidden behind his determination. _"Paige, get out of there."_

Was he crazy? It had taken them _months_ to arrange a meet up with him in a shoddy restaurant downtown. Now she was standing on his back porch like she was an old friend he'd known since childhood, being reacquainted. This guy was selling tons of illegal firearms to some of the biggest hotshots on the FBI's most wanted list, even going so far as smuggling them across the Mexican border to hand them out to some of the worst criminals there.

Monk walked over to a chest against the far railing to the right, opposite the wooden apparatus across the deck. Opening it, Paige caught a glimpse of a dozen knives lined up in their respective holders, the smallest ranging from a paring knife to a butcher's. Her eyes glanced between the man and his toys, a small twinge of nervousness passing through her.

"Would you like me to demonstrate?"

Paige's grin returned, and she sauntered over to him, getting close enough to run her finger over his collarbone seductively. Mike's voice rang in her ear. _"What are you doing?"_

"Let's make this interesting," she offered lowly. She nodded to the target at the far end of his porch. "Make a bullseye from here and I'll let you have me for the night." Standing on her toes, she whispered in his ear, "All yours."

A smirk plastered itself onto his lips. "You have a deal."

Paige smiled and stepped back to the side, as far away as she could without seeming suspicious. Monk chose his medium sized weapon, and positioning himself in front of the target, a good few feet away, moved his hand forward and back, one eye open to focus, readying himself for the throw.

 _"Paige."_

Suddenly, he turned to her and the knife left his hand, turning in the air at top speed. Words were spewed into the air angrily—words like "bitch, Fed, slut." Before she knew it, a white hot pain flooded her shoulder and she was on the ground, clutching her arm to keep it from jostling the knife even further, a blood curdling cry ripping through her throat.

 _"Paige!"_

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She watches his eyes close for a moment before opening them to her again. Her gaze follows her fingers as they trail up his arm, his shoulder, his jaw, coming up to tangle in the hair at the nape of his neck.

He takes that opportunity to lean down and graze his lips against hers slowly before kissing the tip of her nose. The look in his eyes is of pure, unadulterated adoration, happiness, and—dare she say it—love. And she wouldn't be surprised if her green orbs match his perfect blue.

He moves down so to rest his head on her chest, his eyes looking up at her cautiously. She wraps her arms around him, one draped across his shoulders, the other still tangled in his hair. He takes this confirmation and relaxes against her, his left arm coming to wrap around her torso and pull her closer. She hopes he can't hear the loud thumping of her heart against the walls of her chest. If he does, he keeps that information to himself.

She'll break his heart. Or maybe he'll break hers. All she knows is her relationships usually end in hidden tears and broken memories.

She knows she's no good for him. Paige Arkin is the kind of girl that someone has a good time with for one drunken night, not the girl that someone comes home to at the end of the day. But she thinks that maybe, _for Mike_ , she could be. She can feel a ping of fear run through her. She's no good for him, and she's scared that one day he'll realize it too.

But here, with his arms wrapped around her and his body flush against hers, his fingers tracing invisible patterns against her side and his deep breathing the only sound penetrating the silence, she's never felt more content. She's never felt more at home. And she thinks, maybe, that's enough for now.

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 **A/N: did you guys like it? Review if you guys can and hopefully I'll remember to respond! See you guys soon!** **-Sarah**


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